Why?
by LeiaOrganicSolo
Summary: You just need Bruce to listen to you, for just this once you need him to throw away his stupid rules for you, and only you. /rated T for language/oneshot/


**Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne**

**Pairings: None**

**Rated: T for language and violence**

**Based on Under The Red Hood. If you haven't seen it/read it, I recommend it.  
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><p>"Why?"<p>

_Why why why why why?_

So many why's.

Why did this happen? Why wasn't he there? _Why didn't he avenge you?  
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You clutch at your chest, trying to stop the throbbing ache in your heart by digging into your own flesh with shaking, trembling fingers. Your erratic breathing is heavy, ragged, shallow; the only noise echoing around the decaying apartment building.

Pure, unadulterated rage suddenly fills you and with a snarl you fling your mask to the ground, trying to hide the obvious quaver in your voice, trying to stop the moisture from forming in your eyes.

"Why fucking not Bruce?"

And Bruce- God _fucking_ damn him -just looks at you with a mixture of anger, of pity, of regret. And damn it, you're so ashamed.

_"_I'm not talking about killing the Penguin," you spit, the ache in your chest increasing with every, passing, second. You think you'd rather be dead, permanently this time. "Or Scarecrow, or Dent." As your voice rises so does the pain, and the loneliness, and every other emotion you've been trying to hide for quite honestly your entire God damn shitty life.

Wrapping both arms around yourself you try to stop the hurt, to stop the agony, stop the feeling of _fucking falling apart,_ to pieces.

"I'm talking about him!"

With a scream of frustration you thrust a finger at the Joker who is smirking at you, and next thing you know you're just trying to ignore the sweat that breaks across your brow, the way your heart starts beating even faster, the sudden. You try to push past the evident fear that makes your muscles lock up and bombard you you with a flood of memories that you can't hide from, not now, not never.

Because every time you close your eyes he's all you fucking see - the way his lip curls when he grins, the wild, tangled, knots of green hair falling in his psychotic eyes, the way he laughs when the crowbar strikes out at your body, again, and again, and again.

Even now, miles away from where your murder even _happened_, you can still see and smell the blood- your own blood -smeared across the Joker's pale, painted cheeks. And this time it's _his_ blood you want to see splattered against the wall, shards of _his_ skull and chunks of _his_ hair falling haphazardly to the ground.

"Just him," you practically plead, the pain taking over the anger as tears well up in your eyes and you stare Bruce in the eyes, begging him to understand how badly you need this. To get revenge, to find resolve, to be loved again.

"Why didn't you kill him Bruce?" you ask, reliving every hit, every fracture, every broken bone, every way the crowbar left a dent in your skull, every thud of metal against soft, weak skin. Bile is rising in your throat as the memories refuse to go away, each one more horrifying and mentally scarring than the last, but you don't even care.

You just need Bruce to listen to you, for just this once you need him to throw away his stupid rules for you, and _only you_.

"Just him," you repeat, voice cracking as tears stream down your face and the room spinning around you but you don't care. "And doing it because.." you reach towards Bruce with shaking fingers, hoping, praying, wanting.

Needing.

Needing him to tangle his fingers with yours and pull you up against his large, warm chest and just hold you, whisper simple, meaningless words because no one else will. "Because he took me from you," you finish, choking on a sob. He opens his mouth to speak and you need his answer, _Christ_, you just need to hear his voice more than anything in the world right now.

You need him to sweep you up into his arms and tell you that _everything was going to be alright._

"I can't."

Your world shatters, fully, fucking completely. Nothing- not the broken bones, not the ruptured organs, not the fractured skull -can even compare to the pain in your chest as everything comes crashing down on you.

"I'm sorry Jason," you are dimly aware of Bruce saying.

_Why?_

_Why don't you love me anymore?  
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><p><strong>Because everyone needs a little Jason Todd angst in their lives. Unbeta-ed, so please excuse any blatant disregard of the English language. <strong>

**Reviews are adored.**

**~LeiaOrganicSolo_  
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